Page 52 of Hot Soldier's Rescue

Maybe his loss of detachment was a warning sign he’d be wise to heed. Being able to remove himself emotionally from the situation at hand was vital to his work. Men like him learned to cut off all their feelings—fear, anger, guilt—and to focus purely on doing the mission. It was one of the great secrets to success of special operators.

But then along came a spitfire in a wimple with sparkling eyes and sweet curves and a smile that made him feel a mile tall. What had she done to him? Whatever the hell it was, he had to undo it, and fast. He reached for his usual chilly calm…and got nothing. Zilch. As he looked inside himself, all he saw was a raging need to roll over and make love to Elise again.

Talk about screwed. Man, this was it. Every fiber of his being shouted for him to collect the kids and Grandma and Elise and get the heck out of this country. But that was the one thing he couldn’t do. Not yet. First, he had a mission to complete. And then…

…and then he’d be back to collect his little brood. A brood he’d come to care for more deeply than he could ever have imagined.

With that in mind, he carefully slipped out from under Elise and dressed silently. He eased the door open and slipped out into the hall. He was done waiting for the Army of Freedom to come to him. It was time to take the mission directly to the enemy.

* * *

Elise openedher eyes as Drago slipped out of the room. Where was he going? Back to his room? Or someplace else? Someplace where she wouldn’t find him? Was he ditching her as she’d feared he would?

She’d thought their lovemaking had been pretty incredible, the connection between them powerful and real. But had it been nothing special to him, after all? Or did she have it all wrong? Was he heading out to find the rebels by himself? It would be his style. Protect the women and children by being the big, macho man all by himself.

She slipped out from under the covers and pulled on her hated nun’s garb. It felt even weirder than usual to don it after what she’d spent most of the night doing. What a fraud she was. She’d spent so much of the past few years hiding that she’d forgotten how to be herself. But thanks to Drago, it had all come back to her—the joy, the terror, the vulnerability, the passion of it all. Being alive again was a wonderful thing.

And with that in mind, she wasn’t about to let him charge out into the jungle and get himself killed, thank you very much.

She hurried down the hall frantically trying to figure out how she was going to follow Drago if he left the hotel in the Jeep. Maybe she could convince the hotel clerk to let her borrow his vehicle. But that would take time. She put on an extra burst of speed and reached the lobby just as Drago was leaving, his tall silhouette unmistakable.

She ran to the front doors and was abjectly relieved to see him closing the back door of the Jeep. Apparently, he’d just been getting something out of the back of it. He moved past the parking lot and headed out on foot into the town, striding confidently down the street as though he knew where he was going. How was that? Memory of him making that phone call to get directions to Mercado flashed into her mind.

He’d lied to her. He wasn’t entirely without backup out here. Someone was helping him. She turned onto the side street he’d disappeared down a minute ago and lengthened her stride to keep pace with him far ahead. What else had he lied to her about?

Or maybe the real question was, what hadn’t he lied to her about? Was Drago Cantori even his name? Was he from France? Did he really love her?

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. Had everything about their lovemaking been a lie, too? He hadn’t talked a lot, but she’d thought he’d been making silent promises to her with his body and soul. Maybe he hadn’t promised her till death do they part, but he’d seemed to imply that he wanted a lot more of her and was prepared to pursue a relationship of some kind with her. Or had that been merely wishful thinking on her part?

She was so nailing him down and having a serious talk with him when she caught up with him. One thing she knew for sure. If the two of them were going to have a real relationship, he’d have to come clean and be honest with her.

But as soon as the wave of indignation at him passed, desperate longing for him under any circumstances—honesty or no—came roaring back to the fore. Sheesh. She was a mess! She knew better than to stand for a man who wouldn’t be square with her. But memory of their lovemaking rolled over her, making her knees weak and her gaze limpid as she peered ahead in the dark at his fast-moving form.

Aah, temptation, thy name is Drago.

He stopped abruptly ahead of her, forcing her to duck into a doorway in case he happened to glance back over his shoulder. After a moment, she peeked around the corner. He was doing the same, plastered against a wall ahead and looking carefully at something down a side street.

He must have found the Devil’s Den Hotel. Fear for him exploded in her gut along with a driving need to protect her man. As he slipped around the corner and disappeared from sight, she sprinted forward and took his place against the wall. Mimicking his actions, she peeked around the corner.

The street was quiet and unnaturally dark. All the streetlights were out, or more likely intentionally out of commission. She was just in time to see the front door of a three-story building close. She couldn’t see a sign from here, but she’d bet her life savings that was the Devil’s Den.

Now what was she supposed to do? Drago had an excuse to just barge in. He could sell them some machine guns or something. But she couldn’t exactly charge in and offer to cook for everyone or hear confessions. Maybe she could sneak in the back door and hear something. Although, if it really was the Army of Freedom headquarters, all the entrances were likely guarded. She didn’t see anyone out in this street, though. She peeked again, taking her time to search for lookouts. If they were there, they were very well hidden.

Instead of following Drago, she retraced her steps to the next side street and circled around the block to approach the hotel from the other side. She didn’t see anyone from this angle, either. Cautiously, she slipped into the alley beside the hotel. She looked for surveillance cameras or bums apparently asleep that the gangs in New York used around their hangouts. Nothing. Surely the Army of Freedom wasn’t so confident it didn’t bother with such things. The Colombian Army was no slouch when it came to equipment and training.

She touched the white-edged black cloth over her hair self-consciously. Just how much protection would it provide her when push came to shove? If nothing else, Grandma knew Father Ambrose’s name, and the priest’s phone number was in the woman’s cell phone now. If Elise died out of sheer stupidity tonight, Grandma could call the padre and get help pulling the children out of harm’s way.

For sure, following Drago was stupid with a capital S. But she could no more turn away from him than she could the children. Where she loved, she protected. It was just the way she was wired. Although, how she was going to help him in any way, she hadn’t the slightest idea.

A door came into sight on her right. A peek in through the dirty window revealed a commercial kitchen. She tried the knob. Locked. Of course. Too bad one of her regular patients was an accomplished lock picker and had shown her a trick or two. A credit card really did work if the lock was simple and a person had a little patience and luck. She left it in God’s hands. If she managed to open the door, clearly she was meant to go inside.

It took a few minutes, but the door cracked open under her hands. Okay, God. Here goes nothing.

* * *

There wasnothing like a bold approach to disarm the enemy. Of course, it was also the fastest way to take a spray of bullets in the chest if it failed. Ted walked right into the middle of the dim lobby and announced to no one in particular, “My name is Drago Cantori, and I’m here to see Eduardo Lentano.”

And then he waited. He imagined several sleepy men somewhere in the hotel were scrambling hard, trying to figure out what to do about him. When no one came out to meet him, he moved over to an armchair and sat down, sprawling comfortably as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

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